


(an alternate) Meeting

by hungryforramen



Category: Psych
Genre: Alcohol, Drinking, F/M, First Meeting, Fluff, alternate first meeting, and she became their new BFFL without consent, as always angry!lassiter because he is adorable, drunk!shawn, jules making fun of shawn for crying, shawn acting like a child and juliet is confused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 18:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8634136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hungryforramen/pseuds/hungryforramen
Summary: They met each other in a bar: Juliet was homesick, Shawn was drunk. He fell on her and she had to struggle with his weight and cries that sounded like a child's. Few days later, they met again at the Santa Barbara Police Department – only the meeting was different than the former meeting – and they introduced themselves formally… especially with Shawn sober.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this two years ago, so that explains if any parts of this comes across as... rude? And maybe the way I wrote crying and described drunk!Shawn was unacceptable. Two-years-ago me is different that two-years-later me.
> 
> Was posted on ff.net with tweaks here and there.
> 
> Constructive criticism are welcome.

Saturday; 0047 hours

Juliet O'Hara stepped into a bar just brisk fifteen minute walk from her new apartment. Juliet was not sure why she decided to take a walk around the area, but she also thought it could take her mind of things… especially worries. The faint scent of the calm salt water reminded her of her days in Miami.

Juliet was no stranger to Santa Barbara to start with. Some point of her life, she spent her holidays here – at least 7 kilometres away from the beach. When she went to stay in Miami, where she practically lived all her life, she would always hit the shores day, evening or night; regardless of the days in the week.

She looked over the bartender's back. She doesn't drink much but once she does, she won't be able to stop. "Vodka, please," she said to the bartender who acknowledged her order with a nod. His hands were fast and within seconds, a shot glass of her order was placed in front of her.

The TV was showing some late night rugby commentary, she groaned (which it was the case of her disinterest in the sport). Her ex-boyfriend in Miami played it… and then played behind her back. Juliet shuddered from that memory. She took the shot glass and placed it right on her lips, nibble the edge of the rim. It shocked her when her phone suddenly rang its incoming call tune. Juliet groaned as she looked at the caller ID. _Think of the devil, and he calls_ , she thought in dismay.

She shoved her phone into her red Supreme sweatshirt pocket and fiddled with the glass' rim again. Juliet then instantly put it by her mouth and closed her eyes.

"If I ever ask for more," she said to the bartender, "throw me out of your bar."

"Whatever you say," said the man in his thirties from afar.

Juliet was ready to gulp all her worries and regret and end the night with a goodnight's sleep after the stroll, but all of a sudden…

"Ouch!" Juliet screamed as a person with weight quite hefty crashed her from her back, and her beloved – also only – shot was now spilled on the bar, a little bit on her sweatshirt, and mostly around the lower part of her face. Where is the bartender when he ought to be there to help her? Juliet cursed in her mind and carefully pulled the person by her side, and slid his arms around her neck for support. Judging how drunk this man was, she was surprised why she hadn't gotten a broken back.

She was still struggling with him, hoping he won't fall to the floor in a planking manner, or it would only give him a severe nose injury and probably a broken tooth. To Juliet's disappointment, the man didn't even man-up a little bit, instead he started to cry like a child. And having him next to her ears made Juliet has the urge to throw this man onto the floor and hopefully, in a planking manner. Juliet panicked, but as a/an (soon-to-be) officer of the law, she had to stay safeguarded.

"Are you alright, mister?" Juliet had to carry him to the nearest table which was at least, from her rough deduction, 3 meters away from the bar seats. The more she hushed the man, the more tears flowed onto her sweatshirt, which made it worse. She thought that this man had a booboo, but a grown man wouldn't cry because of a booboo, would he? _Nope_ , Juliet thought as she made a side-glance peak over her shoulder. Only snot, tears and his face was frighteningly _very_ red. She inwardly wished that this man doesn't drive for the night.

Juliet practically had to throw him the swift taekwondo style and he collapsed on the leather covers of the chair; maybe crying from the pain. Did she threw him and he got a booboo? Juliet slumped in the opposite seat, massaging her neck and lightly punching her back.

The man who was wearing light blue Polo sat and covered his face. _I hope you feel ashamed for crying in front of a woman_ , Juliet thought sarcastically.

"You know," he started and sobbed, "My life, ever since I was born, was over. I didn't get t-the chance to start a life!"

Juliet reluctantly listened to this man; she was putting pressure in between her nose bridge. It was totally insane, with her vodka spilled… she has her problems too. Juliet speculated in her mind that this man before her was a criminal, but his shirt was bright blue, his hair gelled to finesse, so she deducted that if this late-twenties-early-thirties man was sober, he would be as glee as a kid. _Just like how he is with crying_. But Juliet made a mental note not to reckon too quickly.

"How 'over' is your life now?" Juliet played along with the sobbing man.

"Cop dad, shrink mom, divorced parents, grammar freak for a friend… and I'm only good at one thing."

"Is it your girlfriend, maybe?"

The man peeked at her through his fingers while his sobbing finally slowed down, but the muscles on his forehead created a deep crease. He was scowling. "I'm freakin' single!"

Juliet was taken aback but the shout. _What do I care if you're married with ten kids?_

"I should've aced in high school, for example. Or maybe a perfect score for SATs! I'm Shawn friggin' Spencer, for that frizzy haired genius' sake!" This man named Shawn shouted.

"Einstein?" Juliet coughed the renown genius name, albeit the clue given.

"A boy with _too_ stellar IQ and actually got perfect score that stupid detective exam!" Shawn frowned and slapped his forehead.

It was Juliet's turn to frown. "You took the detective examination?"

"Yes," Shawn admitted.

"How 'perfect' were you with the exam?"

"Too perfect," was all he replied.

"Too perfect?" Juliet was skeptical. Her score was relatively a perfect 98.4. How perfect can this drunken man's score can be? _Unless_ ….

"A hundred," the man replied in a heartbeat, as if he was ashamed of his score. His perfect detective examination score.

Juliet's mouth hung open and she had to cover it and cleared her throat. _So this man's working as a detective at the Santa Barbara Police Department?_ "You're a detective, then?"

The man across her shook his head. "Kind of. Some small business that involves me getting nearly killed by Mr. Bean. All the time."

Juliet smiled. She was on the verge of laughter at the mention of Mr Bean. Juliet enjoyed the funny show, but there was a real life Mr Bean? Minus the humour, this Mr Bean Shawn referred to sounded like a crazy-ass boss to her. A person with temper; couldn't get that one checked, she guessed.

"I co-own a small company and it is freaking sick to actually solve things alone, but thank God I have a very useful co-owner and sidekick, but solving things alone and pushing yourself to the edge of you confronting-," Shawn railed off. "It's just so uncool of me facing him with something that made me scared to death more than anything! But if I had my BB gun that my Cop Dad confiscated it when I was eight, I would've been cooler than Jason Statham in any of his Transporter movies!"

"What _kind_ of job do you have?" Now Juliet _was_ curious. It sounded like a serious and heavy business, but this man kind of took it lightly.

Shawn's brownish-blue pair of eyes met hers. Juliet's breath stuck in her throat. "Nothing that you wanna put your hands on, ever… unless you're suicidal, like me."

Juliet suddenly wanted to change the topic. She had the urge to think this man was an assassin. Instead, Juliet suddenly blustered out: "I'm Juliet."

Shawn frowned. "I don't wanna know your name, _Juliet_. I'm Romeo, by the way. Oh, that's my middle name," he snapped.

"Shawn Romeo Spencer? That's a very interesting name. "

Shawn laughed lightly and slowly stood up from the chair. "Cute. How I wish my dad actually named me after a romantic dead fictional dude who's a stupid helpless romantic."

"You seem alright," said Juliet, ignoring the drunken man's mockery. "You don't feel like puking or going to faint, do you?"

Shawn once again looked at her, eyes filled with crazy judgments. "Must I?"

Juliet hesitantly shook her head.

"Thanks for answering." When Shawn walked he swayed left to right. But in Juliet's eyes, he seemed like he's a great guy. And maybe he has the great-guy-charm. Or perhaps he's quite angelic-looking, despite of him being so red and so drunk. _Weird_.

Shawn had to hold the tables and walked turtle-slow out of the bar and Juliet was worried for the stranger. She rushed to the bar and placed a ten dollar bill on the bar and jogged out. As soon as she was out, she saw the silhouette of a man swaying violently left to right to her own left. She prayed for his safety and turned to the opposite direction, walking through the chilly night, tugging her hands into the sweatshirt's pocket.

Monday; 0945 hours

Junior Detective Juliet O'Hara stood next to Head Detective Carlton Lassiter, her new and first Detective partner at the Santa Barbara Police Department… also first in her entire career. In front of them was Chief Karen Vick, standing by her desk, smiling warmly to the new blue blood of her department.

"Head Detective Lassiter is very resourceful and have been working for the SBPD for over a decade. He gets grumpy and ask around for tell-tale signs from your colleagues and when you come across those signs, run before he screams," Chief Vick glanced towards Detective Lassiter. "He's an easily annoyed man with a good heart."

Both Head Detective and Junior Detective exchanged handshakes until a girly screech came from their back. Juliet eyes bulged when she saw the oddly familiar face, but the person's attitude was completely the opposite from what she saw few nights ago. She'd never imagine she would meet him anywhere… especially here at the SBPD, her new office, out of all places.

"Shawn Spencer, what are you doing here?" Chief Vick asked, and Juliet sensed that the Chief knew this man from the bar for quite a long time. Even when her stern tone was soft on him, did Juliet hear the tinge of annoyance in the Chief's voice?

Shawn Spencer was wearing a lime green neon-ish shirt, which Juliet secretly agreed that it seemed like a perfect match against his tanned skin. His fingers suddenly rose to his temples and he took what it appeared like very, very deep and dramatic breath. _Is he acting or for serious?_  Nice to meet you too, Chief! And… I-I sense…," he began. "I sense a new colleague!" He turned to Juliet and he looked like as if Juliet's presence had caught him off-guard. Shawn looked at Juliet in wonder and in awe… also possibly in his best shock impression ever. "And I sense I've seen... _met_ her before?" That question was indirectly for the new detective. Shawn brought his fingers back to his temples, frowned, and looked on the floor. "Wait, what? Spirits, are you playing jokes right now? No, guys, it's not April Fools." He looked up at Detective Lassiter and using his most ridiculous innocent voice, he said, "I'm getting a fish bait for a name? Why?"

Detective Lassiter looked irritated by the man's presence. He became rigid when this Shawn persona nudges him lightly and playfully.

Chief Vick cleared her throat. "This is Detective Lassiter's new partner, Detective Juliet O'Hara. And you two might run into each other every now and then."

Juliet extended her hands and Shawn took hers as if he was greeting a princess from a far, faraway land. "It really isn't April Fools after all," said Shawn with an intriguing smile on his lips. "Shawn Spencer is the name. Real name that wasn't featured on my identity card is George Michael. No, I'm a local Santa Barbarian, before you ask. I just happen to be named after a hot British lad… so am I, on a Scoville unit. If he's a singer, I'm a psychic: SBPD's resident Head Lead Chief Boss of the Psychic Department. Best friend, best wingman, and company for breakfast lunch dinner teatime supper also snack time."

Juliet's eyebrow rose. What's more absurd: Shawn is the drunken man from the bar whose weight crashed her flat and now he actually appeared in front of her, or he has a split personality problem, or the fact that he's telling her that he's a psychic… in front of a detective who really want to throw this psychic out in the sea and the Chief.

"We'll meet soon, maybe with two cups of freshly brewed instant coffee… clear things up?"

_Is this man flirting with me?_

"She has work, Spencer," Detective Lassiter snapped and paced out of the Chief office.

"But, Lassie; your partner's so beautiful!" Shawn followed the irritated Detective out of the office.

Detective O'Hara stared at the invisible sillage Shawn had left; and she was left to wonder who that character really was.

"Anything else, Detective?" Chief Vick asked, cutting Juliet's thoughts.

Juliet shook her head. "No, Chief."

Chief Vick sat on her chair (it looked comfortable to Juliet). "Good. You can ask any question to anyone, anytime. Do not hesitate to do so. SBPD is happy to have you under its wings, Detective, O'Hara."

Juliet smiled and walked out; slowly she paced toward her desk. It was empty – not precisely; there was a desktop and a line phone on her desk. She stared at the two boxes on the floor next to her workstation. She arranged her stationary accordingly and stood. _It's time to prove that you can do it!_ She psyched herself up.

She took a deep breath and looked around the busy environment of the police department. There was no trace of the green shirt man. Juliet realized that she felt a hint of regret and frowned to herself. When Chief Vick was ready to answer any questions, she wanted to ask an inane question but told herself not to. It's not decent to ask about a man on the first day of work. She didn't want the Chief to think that she was (slightly) attracted to a psycho.

_Am I attracted to a bizarre bar-psycho?_

Juliet saw Detective Lassiter by the pantry; pouring his cup of instant coffee in a plain red mug and involuntarily groaned. She straightened her cobalt blue blouse and walked toward her frowning partner.

"Detective Lassiter!" Juliet called for the Head Detective. Juliet noticed that this man looked so much like Mr Bean, the character she'd seen on TV. Maybe it's the way Detective Lassiter dresses, at least. The hair, though… is very much alike.

The Detective turned, looked slightly annoyed by the sound of his name being called in a pool of humans walking up and down the police department. As soon as he found the source of the voice, Juliet noticed that his expression became a little relaxed. "Detective O'Hara," he greeted and sipped from the coffee mug.

"Is there any case that I can start with right away?" Juliet was determined to di her best and she wants to impress the Head Detective today.

Detective Lassiter nodded and led her way. "This way, Detective." When they arrived at his desk, he grabbed a file and handed it to the Junior Detective. "Robbery; happened a couple of days ago. Much ado about nothing for this one because I've done most of the research, but you can start with this right away. Info are in the file."

Juliet was more than glad to grab her hand on anything. Just anything. It would keep her head in the game, and while she's at it, it can lessen her homesickness. Juliet knows the fact so well that she can't always dwell into missing Miami. Ergo the place has a lot of memory of her growing up into the sassy and confident teen, where she worked her ass off as an Officer at the station, where she had met a lot of people whom she treasured, whom she had once love… those feelings can't affect her performance. Juliet was promoted as a Detective with her sheer hard work; although at that time she was feeling detached from her relationship with the guy she met since college. Juliet was sometimes very surprised that the relationship had lasted years.

Monday; 1112 hours

Juliet was between scrabbling notes on a notepad and typing out words she connected from her's and Detective Lassiter's note to the keyboard. Although it was her first day, she had to take a couple of breaks from the last hour, which was when she received the file from her partner. Juliet had settled with a datum that this robbery case was indeed complicated.

During one of those breaks Juliet took to close her eyes and rest her mind for a minute or two, a soft and comforting voice greeted her. "Hey, there."

Juliet turned to the voice and was surprised to see Shawn Spencer smiling down warmly at her. _I guess he's one of those guys who_ actually _kept their promises_. "Hello," she replied sheepishly.

Shawn looked awkward – or anxious – and handed her a coffee cup from her hand. "You know, that case you're working on is quite easy to close it. I don't need to be a _psychic_ to actually tell."

Juliet half-heartedly smiled and massaged her own temples. "If it was easy, tell me, _psychic_ , who is the culprit?"

The man leaned comfortably against the pillar next to her and sipped his own cup of coffee. "It's no one's fault but the drunken owner's. He got wasted and when Lassie interrogated him, he said he couldn't recall a thing, saying he was at home, asleep. But nope, I remember Gus said that he reeked of alcohol. Not to mention, it was strange that some of the items from his grocery store laid in order, practically screaming 'grab these, I'm giving you for free!'" Shawn pulled out a picture that printed the store being badly damaged. "Do you recall seeing a note that Lassie wrote that said it there was nothing robbed from the store? The money that they had in their account was not a cent less than their profit that week and it was still at its place where they kept it – in the small safe in the store's office.

"One thing about Lassie is he's thorough, but he assumes quickly. He's wrong when he said some kid got so bored and became an aggressive vandal. But the CCTV showed there's only one adult figure, quite chubby too, and he was wearing glove on a spring night. In fact, this person – the owner – wears glove day and night."

Juliet who was listening keenly and sipped her coffee now and then frowned. "Sorry, but how do you know that the owner wears glove all the time?"

Shawn shrugged. "I get my daily dose of Pepsi there every day. It's like the hub between my place, my dad's home, SBPD and the Psych office. I kinda made friend with that guy."

"Continue your story," Juliet said to Shawn.

"Um, I've just finished my story. I guess I should tell you that there's no finger print either due to the glove he wore. It's supposed to be in one of those notes," he pointed at the file which was filled with Post-its with Detective Lassiter's handwriting.

Juliet shrugged. "Thanks, Shawn; for the coffee, too."

"Actually, Juliet, we started off at the wrong foot. I _must_ introduce myself formally to you. I'm not some drunken man who actually gets that drunk like that night. I'm actually a psychic with a pharmaceutical salesman as a best friend and co-owner our little private detective agency called Psych at the quay." He extended his right hand toward the lady. "I'm Shawn Spencer. And we'll be working together sometimes… without the consent of Lassie. He hates me. But I'm a nice kid."

Juliet shook the hand and said: "Juliet O'Hara." She released her hands. "You remember that night?"

"Just bits and pieces since I don't remember other rambles I made. Sorry."

A man stood beside Shawn and had a stoic expression on his face. He was bald with dark skin and height more or less like Shawn's. The way he stood looked quite graceful, as if he was a dancer. "Don't fall for the smooth act, Detective. He's sly."

Shawn's face looked playfully depressed… _and did he actually stomped his foot like a girl_? "C'mon, Gus! You can't always be jealous because I was talking to the beautiful lady! Tell me – honestly – that you want to be introduced to the beautiful Detective Juliet O'Hara from…" He placed his left fingers at his temples. "Miami, am I right?" His smile looked charmingly dangerous… _or was it just a smirk_?

The man whose name appeared to be Gus smiled sweetly straight away and extended his own hands. "My name is Burton Guster, a pharmaceutical salesman, and this is my partner Tim McGraw."

Shawn's brows furrowed so deeply that it scared Juliet. "Dude, I'm the only one who legitimately can give anyone nickname… especially to you, Gussy." He turned to Juliet and said: "I give you the nickname… Jules. Juliet is too mouthful and has too many syllables. And you can be our best, best, best friend." He hooked his arms around Gus' neck and screamed at Lassiter. "Let Lassie be jealous of our new best friend here because she just made some cool awesome and spectacular new best friends!"

**Author's Note:**

> I don't condone hyper masculinity. Men can cry and express, sober or not.
> 
> Again, I welcome all constructive criticism.


End file.
